Page 28 of The Lord Meets His Lady

Seven

“Gor, miss, I could look at him all the long day.” Ruby Dutton’s chin and forearm rested on her broom. “Sure you don’t need me here every day?”

Lord Bowles swung his ax in a wide arc near the barn, doing his best to replenish Pallinsburn’s firewood and providing Ruby Dutton with a fine view. He’d worked the last hour, turning an eyesore of a dead tree into a neat stack of wood.

Thump! Thump!“That means”—Thump! Thump!—“you’d have to”—Thump! Thump!—“work in the first place.” Lily Dutton stopped beating a rug to give her sister the gimlet eye.

Genevieve listened to the sisters’ banter and dug through the garden’s weeds to liberate a carrot. She admired the slender orange vegetable plucked from the dirt and the wordliberate…to be free, to unshackle or unfetter. Elise had taught her the word and a good many others.

Breathing the cool north air, she was free.

Was it the north? The shabby garden with its fright of a cottage begging for a kind touch? Or the simple gift she’d given herself of starting a new life?

Kneeling on burlap, she worked out how to explain her coming north to Lord Bowles. Clad in hip boots and homespun breeches stretching across his taut bottom, she found no fault in him. His tall frame had rippled with grace all day, going from one task to another.

Hefting stones. Hauling planks over his shoulder. Swinging his ax.

Today he was an intriguing woodsman who’d forgotten he belonged in higher places.

Her cheeks pinked. More than once she’d goggled him worse than a wharf doxie. Ruby was right. Lord Bowles was easy to look at. Even better, he was quick with a smile and his gentleman’s demeanor.

The chorus of thumps started again on the carpet. Genevieve pulled weeds, racing to finish a patch of ground. The Beckworth men had already left, and Ruby and Lily would soon be gone.

And she’d be alone with Lord Bowles.

She swiped her forehead. “That’s enough for today. Would you take the carpet to the parlor, Ruby? Your brother will be here soon.”

The sisters rolled up the faded carpet. Years and neglect had left the rich pile a shade of overmilked tea. Ruby hefted the burden under her arm and dragged one end along the gravel path.

Lily knelt nearby and ripped up a weedy clump. “You’ve done a lot for this garden, miss. It’s a wonder you’re finding anything. It being so late in the season and all.”

Genevieve yanked out a spiky invader. “Is it too late for gardens?”

Vegetables came by way of carters and street-side vendors in London. The chance to dig in the earth and see what grew was a wonder.

“Oh yes, most gardens ’round here are done by now.” Lily stepped gingerly around and rooted through more weeds. “Looks like you got onions here.” With a heave, she tugged three dirt-caked onions from the earth and tucked them in the basket.

Genevieve’s red-gloved fingers furrowed through wild grass. “Thank you for your gardening advice. You’ve probably guessed that I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“You’ve done a fine job far as I can see.” Nose wrinkling, Lily scanned the weeds clinging to the cottage’s back wall. Broken buckets littered the ground, their coopered wood fanning like flowers. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Genevieve picked up her trowel, determined to remove a large, stubborn weed. “You’ve been a big help today. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

She jabbed the trowel into the soil. Restoring the square garden would be a long undertaking. Wide gravel pathways cut the land in quarters. Two plots were vegetable gardens overrun by weeds. The other two were filled with dead shrubbery. Yet, the Pallinsburn garden was a place of promise. The soil was fragrant, unlike questionable London muck. This square patch of earth begged to be renewed. Clear out the weeds, do a little tending, sow fresh seeds, and new life would sprout come springtime…when she wouldn’t be here.

“I’m just happy to get some extra coin,” Lily said. “Father doesn’t pay us at the Red Swan…bein’ family and all.”

“You did a fine job today, Lily. I’m thankful for your help.”

“Thank you, miss.” Lily scooted closer, unearthing a shriveled turnip. She waggled the vegetable, inspected it, and tossed the wrinkled root onto the growing pile of weeds. “There is one thing.”

“Yes?” Genevieve drove the trowel deeper, her breath coming in fits as she pulled the weed with her other hand.

“Please don’t mind Ruby.”

“What do you mean?” Genevieve whacked the roots. “Her long bouts of rest while you work?”

“Oh, I’ll make sure she gives you an honest day’s work.” Lily paused, the steady thud of an ax ringing in the background. “I’m talking about her fast ways.”